


As Certain Dark Things are to be Loved

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Dorian's portrait, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, a bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Dorian is bored so he decides to find some... action while pondering his feelings towards a certain American...





	As Certain Dark Things are to be Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, I finished watching Penny D for the third time the other day and I couldn't help myself. It's funny, seeing as I have another million fics on the making but this one I finished in two days.   
> Title is from a Pablo Neruda's poem: I love you as certain dark things are to be loved; in secret, between the shadow and the soul.   
> I hope you enjoy! :) please leave kudos and reviews are most welcomed!

Dorian walks down an alleyway; thinking about the trivialities of his immortal life. There’s nothing excitable about it anymore, he can have anything he wants; art, music, food and women anytime, all the time. He’s had it all before but there is still some enjoyment to get from it. There is only one thing he’s had once before and he wishes dearly he could have again, however.

Ethan Chandler.

Dorian sighs, it is been a long time since he was so taken with someone, people bore him easily these days; they are all the same in different presentations. At first he had thought Miss Ives was the exception: she is beautiful and there is no denying her interesting personality, but. The darkness inside her is something Dorian doesn’t want to deal with. He had enjoyed their time together but it was not what he is really looking for.

Even though Vanessa has a darkness of her own he knows he cannot trust her with his. Ethan on the other hand… Dorian shakes his head and huffs in exasperation, boredom could make you think the most mental things sometimes. He decides that he needs some action, not the one you had in a bedroom but on the street and preferably with fists and blood involved. So he is quite excited when he hears some drunken men laughing stupidly and the end of the alley.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he greets with fake modals and gives a small bow with his head.

The men turn to look at him; their breath stink of alcohol and their teeth were yellow and they did look like the type to get on fights when drunk. Perfect, just what he was looking for. They laugh harder when they lay eyes on him.

“Such pretty things like you shouldn’ be out ‘ere at times like this,” one of them slurs, spit comes out of his mouth and Dorian feels disgusted. He hates what alcohol can do to a man’s mental state.

“I’m not looking for any trouble. I was just heading back home,” he starts to say. And now that he thinks about it more clearly, he realizes that this might prove to be a mistake. They were three against one and much broader and muscled than him. Such bad luck he forgot his cane at home.

“Ye, this is not a place for boys like ye,” other says, coming closer to him. Up close, Dorian can see that two of his teeth were missing and he has a jagged scar that goes from his left eye to the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly Dorian finds himself backed against a wall; he can defend himself, of course. But not against three drunk men. He only wanted a little pain but this seems to be more than he could chew.

“I think we deserve a treat after a long day’s work, what you say?” the third man, that apparently is not that drunk, asks his fellow mates.  They nod. The man that seems to be the taller one and the ‘leader,’ steps forward and touches a sweaty, big hand to Dorian’s cheek, he swaps it away which is the wrong move because the arsehole gets angry and pushes him even further against the wall. “Oh, so you wan’ to play it hard, then?” he spits at him and shit, Dorian shouldn’t let his boredom move him the next time. The man slaps him right across his face; his face snaps painfully to the side and he spits blood, his skin burning because of the impact but he does not bring a hand to touch the sore skin. He gets angry and tries to land a fist against the other man’s jaw but he is surprisingly quick for a drunk and dodges the hit. He laughs mockingly and kicks Dorian’s feet off of the ground, he loses his balance and falls rather ungracefully (not that anyone was watching) and yelps. The man kneels beside him and grabs him by the collar of his silk blouse.

“Mm, he’s got money on him,” he says to his friends, without turning away from Dorian.

Now is exactly not the time to be a smartass but well, he is Dorian Gray after all. “Well, at least more than you do, yes.”

Oh his portrait was going to have to fix a lot of wrongs that night, it probably won’t be too happy about it.

“If you lay one more finger on him I promise I’ll rip your throat out, it won’t be pretty,” a fourth voice says from somewhere above him, he cannot see the newcomer but he recognizes that American accent right away. A part of him smiles in triumph.  

“Mr. Chandler, so good of you to join the party,” he croaks out, grin in place. The man kneeling beside him does not like the interruption, however. He stands up and straightens his shoulders as if trying to intimidate Ethan, but the American is not bothered by it, he stands there with an eyebrow risen, waiting.

“Well, I was ‘bout to start and I don’ like interruptions,” the man growls.

Ethan sighs and faster than lightning he has the man pressed against the wall, hand around his throat; not enough to choke, yet but enough to slow the air.

“Well sir, I’d advise you against it. You don’t wanna lose your throat, do you?” Ethan lets out, voice low and menacing. Dorian likes it but he gives himself a shake, now was not the time to dwell on these sort of thoughts. One of the other two prevents him from getting up by kicking one of his legs hard enough it might have break with a little more force. Pain curses through his body and, being the masochistic sadist he is, he enjoys it somewhat.

“You aren’ takin’ him, not until I say,” the man against the wall manages to say, breathing shallowly and gaping like a fish.

Ethan makes a small move with his head and shrugs. “Alright, you asked for it.”

From his position on the floor behind the other two men, Dorian cannot really see what is happening but he can hear the painful snap of bones and the pained screams that came along. After a few moments, all three men were on the floor rolling with pain and Ethan was standing there, panting a little and wiping blood from his fingers with one of the men’s shirts. After he is satisfied with the cleaning, he looks down at him and smiles a little smile. He kneels down and brushes Dorian’s hair away. “Now Mr. Gray, we need to stop getting into trouble together. We can find other ways to meet, you know?”

Dorian lets out a breath and tries to shrug it off but he knows he has done a poor job at it and he covers it with his usual coolness. “Well, this seems to be an interesting way to meet, Mr. Chandler. I sort of enjoyed your display of strength just now.”

Ethan looks at him for a moment, assessing the damages probably. Then he stands up and bends to pick Dorian up as well. Dorian lets out a surprise yelp; he was not expecting this at all. He struggles for a moment to get back on his own feet but the other man is indeed strong.

Mr. Chandler shakes his head and grins. ·You’ll forgive me, Mr. Gray. But I rather make sure you don’t get into more trouble, tonight.”

A bigger part of him that he would like to admit to, is reveling in the feeling of the man’s strong arms and warmth enveloping him and he decides he can indulge himself for the length of the walk back to his house.

 

They do not talk during the walk back; both lost inside their own minds, too lost to really think of anything to say that would come out coherently. Dorian’s head is resting against Ethan’s collarbone, he feels tiredness start to take a toll on him and suddenly the only thing he wants is to get into bed and sleep, not before taking a bath of course, he hates staining his silken sheets with blood and sweat. And he would have to limp down to where he kept his portrait, oh and just a while ago he was thinking about the trivialities of his life.

He does not notice when they arrive at his doorstep until Ethan stops and speaks. “Can you make it on your own now, or would you like me to come inside?” he asks, uncertainty on his voice.

Dorian thinks about it for a second and realization hits him: he does want the man to come inside. It has been such a long time since he was taken care of by another, he hadn’t quite realized he longed for it until this moment. He nods, “yes, come in with me. Please,” he gives a so-unlike-him, shy smile at Ethan.

Ethan nods and helps him open the door closing it when they are inside. The house is dimly lit by the candelabras but Ethan seems to remember the way to his room as if he had been here yesterday. He carries Dorian carefully up the big stairwell and then into the bedroom. He is about to place him on the bed but Dorian shakes his head first and says simply, “bathroom first.” Ethan nods and complies, takes him into the big, white-tiled room and then sets him on the edge of the tub while he leans down to open the tap to fill it with hot water.

Suddenly Dorian feels quite aware of himself, of what just transpired and that Ethan is still here, helping him when he could have left ages ago. Dorian hasn’t felt this tumultuous emotions swirling inside him since a long, long time ago. He curses himself and the other man for making him feel this way: though in the other hand, this is what he was looking for, no? A change, to gain some excitement back, to have someone in the more permanent basis. To try and feel alive again.

But…

“You don’t have to stay, I can take it from here,” he says; his voice unsure and surprisingly small.

Ethan pauses whatever he was doing and comes to kneel in front of him, a warn big hand cups his uninjured cheek and caresses it softly, then he pushes Dorian’s hair back. “I want to,” at the other man’s quirked eyebrow he complements. “Stay, I mean,” his eyes are so warm and honest, deep with secrets of his own. Secrets Dorian wants to unravel and share with him, maybe share his own. But not just yet.

He does not speak again for a while, just lets Ethan help him get into the warm water and soak before washing the grime and blood off of his body. Even though the American’s hands are rough, they are surprisingly gentle when he touches Dorian. And he likes it, it’s been ages since someone handled him with such care; his encounters with other people are always rushed and rough and bloody and he likes that. Not with Ethan, though they’ve had an encounter like that before, he craves the gentility of a lover’s touch, the intimacy and… commitment. And… oh.

When his bath finishes and Ethan helps him out of the water, Dorian makes a choice. He will most likely regret it afterwards but it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? “Can you hand me that robe, please?” he points at a burgundy-colored piece of clothing and after Ethan nods and complies, Dorian takes a deep breath and makes his next request. “I also need you to help me get to another room downstairs. There is something- I have to mend myself,” he finally ends up saying. The other man says nothing; he just cocks an eyebrow but picks him back up gently and walks to the ground floor.

“Where to, Mr. Gray?” the American asks in a mockery of formality and Dorian cannot help but smile a little.

“Down those steps over there and then to the right,” he replies.

Ethan shrugs as best he can while carrying him and after the door closes behind them Dorian exhales and braces himself for the impending reaction. “You can leave me here, I can manage,” he requests.

Ethan lets him down and when he sees Dorian wobble a little he moves to help him but the other man holds a hand up. “No, it’s fine.” Dorian’s heart is pattering so hard he fears it would break loose from behind his ribs. He turns to face his portrait and then his wounds begin to mend; the American is standing near a corner, his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face. Better than what he was expecting. But he can’t celebrate yet. When his leg is set back into order and his face doesn’t hurt anymore; he turns to face Ethan slowly, uncharacteristically shy and unsure. “Do you think you- can you-“he does not know how to ask because he is not sure of what he wants to ask in the first place. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment: Ethan has not left nor he has made any sound or looked at him in revulsion or whatever. “Do you think you can take it? Can you accept my darkness and share it with me? I know you probably don’t understand this but-“he is suddenly stopped by a big hand on his face, halting his rambling. Dorian ignores his stare pointedly.

“Dorian,” the man says and his voice sounds so gentle and intimate when he says his name and Dorian wants it, wants him. All of him. “I do understand,” he offers simply. And somehow Dorian knows he really does.

He manages a curt nod before surging forward and kissing Ethan hard and messy; teeth clashing together and tongues engaging in a well-known dance. Dorian wraps his arms around the man’s broad shoulders and pulls him closer. Ethan wraps his arms around his waist and ushers him up, forcing Dorian to wrap his legs around his waist. He pulls away from the kiss and pants out of breath, “I can walk now,” but secretly he enjoys the display of masculine strength when Ethan tightens his hold.

He shrugs and smirks. “This is not for the purpose of helping you walk,” he states. Dorian can do nothing more than kiss him again; a hand carding through his brown, messy hair and tugs a little at the ends, this earns a soft moan from the man and Dorian drinks it eagerly, wanting more immediately.

“Bed,” is the only command Dorian can manage before having his mouth assaulted again.

When they get back to his bedroom Dorian can feel Ethan’s desire pressing against his stomach and he can’t help the moan from escaping; he feels the smirk Ethan presses into the kiss and then he is being placed carefully into the mattress with the other man on top of him. He is only wearing a rob so he is easily unclothed. In other circumstances he would rip the other person’s clothes off of them but somehow this time is different, feels different so he takes his time divesting his lover. He smiles at the word; he has never used that word to describe the people he’s been with. Then again, this is different, Ethan is different. And he likes it; it excites him having found someone he wishes to share his bed with more than once. He doesn’t feel the need to rush things, to let his blood-thirst appetites unravel tonight.

“What do you want, Dorian?” the American whispers against his ear and a shiver runs down his spine.

“For you to fuck me slowly,” he answers. And he really does, he wants to know this side of the man, he already knows his dominant part and even when he does enjoy that side; this one excites him, too.

Ethan nods and kisses down his neck, licking and grazing his teeth softly down his skin. Dorian’s hands are curled on Ethan’s hair, he pulls gently at the strands and elicits soft sounds from the man that go straight to his own erection. One of Ethan’s hands travel down his chest; rubbing a nipple until it’s hard and then proceeds to do the same with the other one. Dorian’s is a mess by now; moaning louder and panting, eyes screwed shut and breathing shallowly.

“Ethan… Ethan please,” he pleads, he needs the other man right this instant otherwise he is going to climax before him.

Ethan chuckles and pulls away to look at him, all debauched on the mattress beneath him. “I thought you said slowly,” he says, playfully.

Dorian nods impatiently. “This is slow, but not _that_ slow. You know that you cannot hurt me, really.”

Ethan sighs. “No, but still I want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” he argues, pushing Ethan with his ankles behind his back.

The man only smiles mischievously He turns towards the stand next to the bed and retrieves the bottle of oil he knows Dorian stashes there. He takes his time uncapping the bottle and coating his fingers. Dorian is growing impatient; he needs the man inside him now, for god’s sake. Ethan finally introduces a finger inside him and it feels so damn good Dorian moans shamelessly.

“I take it you liked that,” the man smirks.

“I would like more, though,” he pants; his hands tightening on Ethan’s hair.

Ethan complies and introduces a second finger so he can scissor them and hit that spot that makes Dorian see stars and cry out, so abandoned and relaxed. When Ethan withdraws his fingers he whimpers and pouts but Ethan only laughs softly and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “I thought you wanted me inside you quickly.”

“Yes, god yes, pleases,” he begs breathlessly.

Ethan pours more oil into his palm and slicks himself before getting into position; he penetrates Dorian painstakingly slow, with unnecessary care but somehow Dorian does not care, not anymore. When the man is fully in, Dorian wraps his legs tight around his waist and his arms around his shoulders to bring him as close as physically possible and then kisses him; hard and messy unlike their love making. Since when does he refer to sex as ‘love making’? Well, he is willing to explore the term but only with the man on top of him, the man that touches him as if he were something breakable and delicate, something precious and worth caressing. Something he could love. And Dorian finds himself wanting exactly that: for Ethan Chandler to love him. Because even if he is immortal and some aspects of life bore him, he has been alone so long that he had forgotten how much he wanted it, wanted love in his life. He has tried it before, a few people as the century goes, but he grew bored of them easily. He has the feeling it won’t be like that with Ethan.

“Ethan… Ethan…” he moans breathless.

Ethan presses a smile against the skin under his jaw and mutters. “I’m here, Mr. Gray.”

That husky voice sends shivers down his spine.

“Please…” he urges the other man pushing him with his ankles. “Please.”

Ethan takes pity on him and starts moving a little faster, it’s still languid enough but at least he is moving and making Dorian see stars and cry out each time he hits his sweet spot. Dorian’s blunt nails rake up and down Ethan’s back; he’s probably leaving bloody half-crescents but the man doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, he is moaning loudly and making Dorian even more aroused. He feels like imploding, heat spreading all over his body. Ethan bites hard on his neck, he will leave a purple mark until Dorian goes to his portrait but this time he thinks he won’t do it because he does not mind the mark of Ethan’s on his skin.

They find ecstasy together, Ethan never touching him and yet he comes as hard as he has never done before. He could get used to this but that thought is to be explored later, now though… now he just clings to the body on top of him; their breathing hard and shallow, hearts beating so fast they could easily break free, bodies sticking together with swat and seed but Dorian is too tired to care about the disgusting feeling.

“Now that is what I would deem as honesty,” he murmurs against Ethan’s temple pressing a small kiss there.

Ethan huffs a laugh and caresses Dorian’s cheek gently. “I have to agree,” he kisses the place where he’d bitten Dorian before.

Ethan’s breathing grows steadier and his heart runs at its normal pace and Dorian basks in the warmth his body provides, like a comfortable blanket for the winter and the thought of getting used to this comes to the front of his mind again but he pushes it back for later. He has no recollection of when he fell asleep but when he wakes up his skin has Goosebumps and the warmth from before is lacking; it worries him that after all this has just been another one night for the American, that after he’d shown Ethan his secret, the man decided he couldn’t really understand or accept it and left. Dorian’s heart clenches painfully at the thought, he would get over it as he always does but this time it would take him longer (he is not sure why) because what does Ethan Chandler has that no one else does? He can’t dwell on it because he feels the bed deep under someone’s weight and he turns his head around so fast he could have broken his neck. Ethan Chandler is sitting beside him, a cloth in his hand and then he cleans Dorian’s abdomen with such care, his heart swells.

“For a moment I thought you had left,” he whispers. Pointedly ignoring the other man’s stare.

Ethan throws the rag somewhere and climbs back into the bed; laying sideways so he can stare at him more directly and smiles softly. “Like a thief in the night? If I didn’t do that last time, why would I this one?”

Dorian shrugs nonchalantly and glances at him. “I don’t know, why wouldn’t you?” and for some reason, the answer scares him.

Ethan stays silent, considering his answer carefully. He seems to realize that this is what will define their relationship; whether or not there will be one, his dark eyes bore into Dorian’s own and somehow he knows the answer before the other man speaks the words. “I understand your darkness, Dorian. I have one of my own but I am not ready to show it to you, it is nothing like your painting I can assure you.”

Dorian feels a smile spread on his face. “That’s alright, we have all the time in the world. There is no rush.”

Ethan gives him a small smile and curls an arm around him. “Goodnight, Mr. Gray.”

*

Dorian awakens slowly; sunshine beams through the slightly opened heavy curtains and he feels comfortably warm and well-rested. There is a slight ache in the lower part of his body but it’s barely noticeable. There is also a feather-like sensation on his chest and a sudden tightening of his gut.

When his eyes are open and focused he finds out the reason: Ethan Chandler is still there, staring at him with those intense, dark eyes and his serious expression. Or rather the sort of expression one gets when contemplating something highly precious. Dorian feels a blush creep down his cheeks into his neck.

“You are still here,” he rasps out; voice still sleep-filled.

Ethan nods and pushes his hair out of his face with a gentle touch; his big hand rough and warm against his skin. “I told you I wasn’t leaving. But it is morning now, so I guess I can go now,”

“No, stay. I am sure Miss Ives will not need you until later. We can… maybe, spend the day together…” he says, uncertainly. It is apparent that Ethan Chandler has the ability to make Dorian forget himself; bare him from his usual aloof and confident persona. “If you want to stay, that is,” he adds as an afterthought.

Ethan smiles and burrows into the pillow, hand caressing Dorian’s cheek softly. “I would love that.”

     


End file.
